


It's For Your Own Good

by AKnightOfAGoodKing



Series: The Lieutenant & the Detective [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Arguing, Carnival, Family, Fluff, Genderswap, Humor, Investigations, Parent-Child Relationship, Sulking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKnightOfAGoodKing/pseuds/AKnightOfAGoodKing
Summary: One investigation, Hank has had it with Connor licking evidence. Indefinitely.





	It's For Your Own Good

**Author's Note:**

> **[DO NOT REPOST/REUSE MY WORK(S) WITHOUT MY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND PERMISSION.]**
> 
> (i d o n t k n o w w h a t t h e f u c k i m d o i n g 
> 
> but it goes a little something like this.)

The crime scene is near spotless save for the dead body sprawled over the front of the couch. The apartment is minimalist but in the way  _ikebana_ is, simple yet has a refined, meticiously thought out process that gave the complex a sense of quiet beauty. 

Connor identifies the victim as 53 year old Fred Laurens, dressed in nothing but a white bathrobe, and the cause of death, from what she had analysized on the body, is a fatal blow to the front of the frontal lobe, his skull broken and his brain exposed resulting from mulitple hits. It shows an excessive of rage from the overkill, Lauerns most likely dead from the fifth blow. Connor estimated about at least ten more. The housemaid who found him is frantic and being interview in the hallway. 

Blood spattered red over the bathrobe and the plush light green rug over the furnished wooden flooring, a small coffee table pushed over based on the deep impressions left on the fabric. Two matching armchairs are to the side, seemingly untouched. 

"What you got, kid?" Hank asks, unimpressed by all of this. 

"Excessive rage by the prepatrator," Connor answers, kneeling down by the carpet when she spots a wet stain. "It likely that they and the vicitm knew each other. The weapon is blunt and small, something one could easily hold  onto  one hand. Most of the hits came at from the left side. One moment, Lieutenant. I must analysis this."

Hank grimaces as he was too late to stop Connor from sticking her fingers in the stain to pick up a sticky substance and putting it to her mouth. " _Agh_ ," the old man voices out his disgust. "Connor, you got to stop doing that. You don't even know what that is."

"I've processed it," Connor replies, holding up her fingers to her partner. "It's seman, Lieutenant."

Hank screams.

.

.

.

When Markus gets a call from Lieutenant Hank Anderson, he is surprised. Lieutenant Anderson has never called him before; they've spoken only briefly when he and Connor come by Jericho together the rare times that they do. Markus was not aware that Liuetenent Anderson had his contact information. 

"Lieutenant Anderson, this is a surprise," Markus admits. "Is everything alright? Is Connor hurt?" 

 _"No. I called in ask you to do me a favor,"_ the human replies. 

Markus raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "And what would that favor entail?"

_"Could Sumo stay with you for a week?"_

The android smiles. "I would love to. Sumo is very friendly and most of us know him. Are you and Connor going to be away from home?"

_"No. Connor doesn't think I'm being serious about the licking evidence thing."_

"Oh. Well, when can I be expecting you and Sumo?" 

_"Tonight probably. Thanks, Markus. Bye."_

"Goodbye, Lieutenant Anderson."

The call ends, and Markus goes back on the recording in his data bank. Lieutenant Anderson sounded . . . exasperated. What is this about Connor 'licking evidence thing'? Markus was also unaware of that. 

The door opens behind him, Markus looking up the keys of the paino in this abandoned building on the outskirts of Jericho. It's the official headquarters for android diplomacy out of sentimentality. The top floor with the broken ceiling is open to anyone now, but most left it alone. 

"Hey, Markus," Simon says, peeking through the door. "We're heading back. Are you coming?" 

"Yes," Markus says, getting up. "Thank you for waiting for me." He picks up his coat, and the two head downstairs. 

"I heard you talking. Did you receive a call?" 

"Yes, actually, from Lieutenant Anderson. We need to clear up space for Sumo. I believe Lieutenant Anderson and Connor are at a disagreement about something."

Simon smiles, a big fan of the St. Benard. "I'll ask someone when we get back to our apartments. When can we be expecting them?”

"Tonight, probably."

They meet up with Simon and North outside the building, and they head towards the heart of Jericho. Simon tells the other about Sumo's arrival. 

"I want to stay with Sumo," North says. "I can clear up space at my place."

"Me too," Josh interjects, excited too. Not many androids had yet to have a pet of their own, and not one as big and playful as Sumo.

Markus mentally notes to look into some adoption programs tomorrow morning. More and more androids are building up their own savings as they are now being paid for their labor, and without needing food and as much water and electricity as humans do, most of Jericho have enough to have their own little friends. They'd have to work on pet owner policies in Jericho as well. Perhaps Lieutenant Anderson could offer some advice as a pet owner himself. 

The four of them head towards their favorite of Jericho's three bars,  _Blue Blood_. They have managed to build some entertainment establishment for androids to go to after they returned back from city, such as movie theaters and sport arenas. It's supposed to ease androids into getting used to human activities and learn how to interact in such settings, and Markus hopes that it would encourage his people to start out on their own. Jericho would remain as a place to return to if they ever need it. 

The bar is filling out, but the bartendering android points the four of them towards the booth near the front. It's their favorite seat, and Jericho respected its leaders. They settle down and talk to their fellow androids entering and leaving, sharing drinks and making conversation. 

It's not long after the sun sets when a familiar creature barks, announcing the arrival of their police friends. 

"Hey, Sumo," Simon greets, getting out of his seat first and kneeling to pet the dog. Josh follows right after, the St. Benard lavishing in attention. 

Lieutenant Anderson walks in and places a small duffle onto the table gently. "There's enough food for a week, along with his dish and bowl," the old man says, nodding Markus in greeting. "I shoved as much of his toys in there as possible, and there's money in the small pocket just in case." He ignores the stares.

That's when Connor walks in, but it's not Connor at the same time because this RK800 model is female. Jericho's leadership all raise an eyebrow in confusion, recognizing that she is the Connor they know. The style for the suit is the same, though the ponytail is certainly different. 

"I told you to wait in the car," Lieutenant Anderson says. 

"That order is second to my prerogative to not wait in the car," the android retorts. "You're overreacting. I was only doing my job, Lieutenant."

"The station can do analysis too, Connor. You don't have to shove fucking everything in your mouth."

"But I can get information faster."

"It's disgusting."

"Androids don't get sick."

"That doesn't matter. Nobody but _you_ lick evidence."

"Of course not. I have a multimillion dollar processor installed in my mouth, Lieutenant. It's my job to use it."

"Sorry to interrupt," Josh says before the two can continue arguing, "but what's going on here? Connor, what happen to you?" 

"I died again a few weeks ago," Connor answers blankly. "This female form is a contagency implemented in order to account small factors during my investigation of deviants. It just so happens that my most recent death is the last male form before the contagecny was activated."

"You can come back to life?" North asks, shocked and perhaps even a little angry. 

Connor nods. "When a Connor model is destroyed, its memory is transferred to the next one, but some data can be lost in the process," she cites her former prime directive. "Avoid being destroyed."

Markus places a hand on North's shoulder, shaking his head to let it go. Many of their people had died, but there is no good in allowing resentment to fester now. She retracts with a frown. 

"Why are you leaving Sumo with me, Liuetenent Hank?" Markus asks. 

"He thinks it's an effective punishment for me," Connor says with a frown. "He wants me to not do my job properly."

"Quit sulking, Connor," Lieutenant Anderson says. 

"I am incapability of _sulking_. I was never programed to."

Liuetenent Anderson smirks. "You were also programmed to learn, so here's a lesson: licking blood is one fucking thing, but next time, just analyze what a substance. I know you can identify things with only visuals, and if it's not blood, let the station process the damn thing for better details. It's for your own good. Now get back to the car."

"And what about Sumo?" Connor asks, not addressing everything else Liuetenent Anderson had said. 

"Markus is kind enough to take care of Sumo for us for the next week. Now  _let's_   _go_ , Connor," Liuetenent Anderson stresses once more, nodding to Markus once in gratitude, and he walks out of the establishment without looking back. 

Connor looks at the door, her face blank, but she follows right after, giving Sumo one last pat as she tells the others her goodbye. Markus laughs when they're gone, and his friends look at him. 

"Lieutenant Anderson reminds me of Carl," he says as if it explains everything. It didn't, but they see the look in his chromatic eyes.

"Can Sumo stay with me?" Simon asks, still kneeling on the floor with his arms around the large dog. 

Josh and North immediately jump in to argue with that. 

.

.

.

It's been four days since Hank left Sumo with Markus in Jericho, and Connor is currently holding a soft serve ice cream at the pier. It's a Thursday - their day off this week - and the sun is setting orange over the lively culture of the visiting carnival. She is wearing one of her male form outfits, casual and comfortable after returning home from a day at work, but made to fit her slightly smaller stature. 

Connor is still tall as a woman android, designed to be only two inches shorter, so her jeans are only rolled up a few times around her ankles and a belt three holes in keeping it up over her slightly prominent hips around her thin waist. She's wearing her heeled Oxfords, and her two size too big v-neck shirt is mostly covered by the smallest looking cardigan she had in her personal closest. On her head, Hank shoved a worn out baseball hat, and Connor fixed it to the size of her head and stuck her ponytail through the gap above the strap. She has seen this style before in magazines she had come across in crime scenes. 

(She had never been to a carnival before, and Hank asked her if she wanted to go to one. That was a few months ago.)

"I don't require substance, Hank," she reminds when Hank hands the ice cream to her. He has one too.

"I know you don't, kid," Hank replies, "but you're a person now. It's time to figure out what you like. Try it."

Connor looks at the cone in her hand, not understanding why Hank has been giving her things to taste. She had been programmed with an extensive list of tastes and their anatomical composition. It helps with identifying unknown substances. She looks up and sees Hank had already finished half of his. She notes the slight dialation of his eyes, so she licks the white sugary treat and her tongue sensors says  _cold, vanilla, milk, sugar._

She exhales through her mouth to bring her mouth back to normal human tempeture as the ice cream melts. 

"It's cold," Connor says out loud. She already knows that. 

"Do you like it?" Hank asks, eating his cone already. 

Connor thinks about it for a second, her LED churning slow and blue. "It lacks something," she finds herself saying. 

"Try the syrups." Hank points to dispensary bottles lined up against the side of the stand.colate, strawberry, butterscotch,  _caramel_. She decides on the last one, liking the color, and she pours a porportional amount on top of her ice cream. She takes another lick, continuing as this is a good combination of flavors. 

"How good is you aim?" Hank asks, pointing a thumb at a hoop game. 

"My model has the highest accuracy of all current models," Connor states. "I calibrate my movements every day. It is very good, Lieutenant."

"Then finish your ice cream and win me a prize."

"You're demanding today." 

"Shut your trap, Connor."

Connor smiles, and they head over to the game stand. Her ice cream is one bite from done when the game manager spots her and calls her over, "Hey, looking for a game? A girl like you looks like she might."

"I would like to play," Connor replies, her treat gone. She notes a flirtatious tone in the game manager's tone. He is attracted to her, but she does not like what his wording had implied. He doesn't think she would win. It's probably because he think she's just a human woman, her LED hidden by the cap. 

"Hey," Hank says, sounding unusually calm. He's looking at a gray bunny plushie so big that you'd need both arms to carry it. It's the biggest, and hardest, prize in stock. "How many hoops to win that?” 

The game manager smirks, finding an opportunity to cahs out an old man. "Fifteen," the guy answers. "$10 bucks for three shot. You win a small prize for every three in a row you make, and you can trade five of them together for the big prize."

Hank scoffs. "That's fucking pricey," he comments, but he pulls out a single bill, handing it to the guy anyway. "She'll do all fifteen."

"Your daughter's going to to shoot, sir?" 

Hank smirks. "Fuck yeah, she is."

The game manager shrugs at that, pointing to one of the hoops. There are already three basketballs waiting, and Hank gives his partner a go. 

Connor looks down at the basketballs, taking one in the her hands. It's inflated much more than the average basketball, meaning that its bounce would be higher. Must reduce strength of throw to 10 percent. She looks up to the basket, positioned about almost toweringly high from where she stood ten feet away. A high arc is required. 

"Are you going to take all night, miss?" the game manager asks, grinning. 

"Fuck him," Hank says, giving Connor a back on the back. "Do it on your own time."

Connor throws the ball in her hand. 

"Lucky shot," the guy remarks. 

The android turns and gives the man a smile, and she throws another one and she doesn't stop. Hank laughs when she continusly makes every shot without turning her head back, a picture of innocent and joyful as she stares down the game manager who watches in both awestruck and embarrassment.  _Swish._

Hank laughs, giving the game manager his biggest shit grin, and points his index finger at the giant bunny. "Best fifty bucks I've spent all night," he says. 

The game manager is flustered, quickly fetching the bunny from its place on top shelf, and he all but shoves it into Connor's arms. "Don't come back," he says, looking irritable. 

"No shit, dumbass. Let's go, Connor."

"Coming, Lieutenant," Connor says, her voice muffled behind plush. It is certainly large, and she has to hold it a little bit over herself so that it wouldn't touch the ground. She peeks over the toy, navigating through the crowd of people. She notes some children pointing at the plushie. "This is really soft, made out of cotton."

Hank laughs, taking the bunny from her and feasoly holding it with one arm at his side. His six foot five stature gave him an advantage for holding the prize. 

"Thank you. I didn't know you like stuffed animals."

"I don't, no reason to. Not since . . . I just wanted to fuck with the guy. He's an asshole."

Connor smiles, nodding in agreement. "He was flirting with me," she says as Hank manuveres them towards the rides. 

"Not worth your time, kid."

"Of course. Just from our one meeting, I already calculated how poorly compatible he and I would be as romantic interests."

"Oh yeah? What did you factor in? His arrogance? His stupid looking face?"

"You didn't like him."

Hank stops, blinking once at that response, and suddenly, he's rolling his eyes. "Let's go on the ride," he says, pointing at a roller coaster. 

"Okay, Hank."

The first few rides they tried are the more risky looking one, though Connor already observed how safe the structures where. Connor can't say that she likes those ones, but Hank rellay seems to enjoy them, laughing almost freely when they turn upside down or make a sharp turn. This is how fast Connor sees things, so he doesn't not understand why Hank likes it. 

"Lieutenant, why do you put your arms up in the air on those rides?" Connor asks, curious. "A lot of people in front of us did it too."

Hank shrugs. "It's a 'in-the-moment' thing," the older man answers. "Gets you into the feel of things, feel the wind."

Connor thinks about that, and on the next ride, she lifts her hands up just as the ride flips upside-down. She feels it, the wind, and she finds herself laughing along with Hank. 

The one they go to later on as the hour gets late, but the carnival still lively, Connor finds herself staring at when she saw children and their accompanying adults would wave off to someone else in the crowd as they spun around and round. It's like they ride it just for that very reason. 

"I've never ridden on that before," Connor voices out.

Hank looks over. "Now you can," he replies, and they head towards the ride. 

Connor finds herself impatient as they wait in line, though she does not show it, a blank expression on her face the entire time until fifteen minutes later, they reach the front of the line. Hank steps out of line, holding the giant bunny in his arm. 

"Are you not riding it too?" Connor asks, confused. Maybe Hank wants to go on another ride. She finds herself disappointed. That is new. 

"I'm too old for the freaking merry-go-round," Hank says, scoffing. "You ride it, Connor."

Connor hesitates, but Hank waves at her to get on, heading toward the exit. She watches him settle against the railing that kept poeple outside from just jumping in, and she steps onto the raised platform. She stares at the different animal figures she could sit on. Perhaps Hank didn't want to ride because this is much to childish for him. Connor decides that she should sit on one of the benches. 

The bells for the ride to start rings, and Connor is much too far to get to the closest bench on time, not realizing that she had pretty much picked her spot against one of the red and white striped poles meant for standing. The rides starts, and the world begins to spin. Everytime she make a full rotation, she sees Hank, and he's waving at her. She waves back. 

The world stops spinning too soon, and Connor walks out of the ride area. 

"You liked it?" Hank asks. 

"I did," Connor answers, nodding. "It was . . . fun." 

Hank grins, putting a free arm over Conner's shoulders and his hand on her head. "Good kid."

They go home after that because they have an early day tomorrow, and Hank is only human, succumbing to exhaustion after a few hours of adreline rush and fatty food. He claims he was going into a food coma, and they drive home, radio not turned on. The ride home is entirely quiet. 

"Lieutenant," Connor finally speaks up when they walk through the door, "thank you for tonight. I enjoyed the carnival." She takes off her cap and places it on the kitchen table. 

"No problem, kid," Hank says, grabbing a beer already and heading to the living room to relax. He pushes the giant bunny to the side, and he turns on the TV. 

Connor sits next him, comfortable.

.

.

.

Fred Luarens's killer is found and brought in, three days later. Her name is Jennifer Cloverfield, Laurens' lover thirty years his junior. She confesses to killing Laurens in a murderous rage.

"He called me stupid and that the only thing I had was my looks. Then he laughed and said I wouldn't have it for long. I wanted to be a nurse, ya know. But the bastard thought I would never amount to anything. I thought he cared about me."

Hank doesn't feel too good after that case, and he goes home in a bad mood. "What, Connor?" he asks, seeing Connor standing at the door. 

"It's been seven days, Lieutenant,"  Connor states, hands clasped in front of her. There's a pep in her stance, oddly enough. "Shall we go?" 

Hank exhales loudly, but he nods. Connor had been taking Hank's lesson seriously, and Hank has not seen her put anything but blood in her mouth the rest of this investigation. Besides, he misses his damn dog too. 

The drive to Jericho is quiet, and when they arrive and park, Connor is the first to get out of the car. Hank rolls his eyes in half-hearted exasperation, following after his partner towards the most popular place in the entire android community. Hank lets out a snort when he watches Connor look for the St. Benard. 

"Sumo," Connor greets, sinking down to the floor as she wraps her arms around the large dog. He licks her happily in recognition, crawling halfway on top of the android who doesn't seem to mind or even notice. "I missed you," she says, laughing. 

Sumo barks in response. 

"Hey, Connor," Markus says, the only one at the booth tonight. "Lieutenant Anderson. Are you here to take back Sumo?"

"Yeah," Hank answers, sitting down for a moment. "Thanks for looking after him, Markus."

The revolutionary leader gives the old man a gentle smile. "Of course, Lieutenant Anderson. He was a delight to take care of. It was the other androids that caused any problem. I've been sharing my apartment with Josh, Simon and North for the past week so they wouldn't need to pass him around every night."

"I think Sumo appreciates that."

Hank reaches out to pet his dog, and Sumo jumps off Connor and lands head and front paw first onto Hank's lap, missing him too. "Hey, buddy," Hank says, "you ready to go home?" 

Sumo perks up at the word 'home' and barks. 

"I believe that is a yes," Connor comments, leaning against the booth on the floor. 

Hank hums in acknowledgement, looking at Markus. "I owe you one," he says, reminding them both of the promised favor in return.

Markus's chromatic eyes widens a little in interest. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to call it in right now if possible," he replies. 

"Sure. What is it?"

"I would like to discuss pet ownership policies."

Hank raises an eyebrow. "You thinking of getting one?" 

Markus smiles. "I'm thinking it'd be a choice for everyone."

**Author's Note:**

> (i s t i l l d o n t k n o w t h e f u c k i m d o i n g l o l.
> 
> but i really liked writing that that first scene.)


End file.
